


milk and honey

by zimskivojnik



Series: Bucky & Tones [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Oh wait, Physical Abuse, Sad with a Happy Ending, Seriously this is like really dark im not a very happy person sometimes read the tags, Tony Stark Angst, heheh, im dragging howards name through dirt until one of us dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimskivojnik/pseuds/zimskivojnik
Summary: Bucky holds a grudge that might just be misplaced, but Tony would be damned if he tried to derail any hatred coming his way.He deserved all of it anyways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk man

Bucky had shit luck for all the time he could remember, of his life so far. He broke his arm at only five years old. Lost his father at ten. 

It didn't happen at random, of course, and resulted in a deep-seated disgust towards the Stark Industries and everything the company did to better the world he saw through as PR and skillfully doctored distractions. 

He used to hang out with Howard’s son at school, sleep in Stark Inc shirts and play with toy cars his dad brought home from work, until it was his turn to test out the newest and world’s first self-driving car which malfunctioned and his dad became part of the statistics that counted just how many people gave their lives for Howard Stark to materialize his vision of the world. 

Tony acted like he had no clue why Bucky was mad at him at school, a week after his dad’s funeral and a week closer to Winifred and him moving to Massachusetts. He refrained from spitting Stark Jr. in the face and instead spat his parting words at the only friend he used to have, now: “I always hated you, _Stark_ , now I know I was right,” and he didn't care for the tears in Stark’s eyes that Bucky’d normally wipe away, not be a cause of. 

He met Steve and Sam at his new school and a sweet old lady that lived next door and gave him pie when he’d come back from school to their new house with roses growing around its windows and a big backyard that he never wondered how they managed to afford. 

So, his luck might not have been always shitty, but he figured he was allowed to complain to Steve that it was, now that he found out that his new roommate in his 2nd year at the Danvers High School was Tony fucking Stark. 

Bucky knew that somehow getting a scholarship from the best boarding school on the East Coast had to come with a price. 

“That really does suck, Bucky,” Steve sighed as they explored the nearby area for any new affordable cafés. 

“At least we’re in the same classes this year,” he sighed, grateful to whatever god was out there that Steve was also admitted to Danvers last year. 

“You didn't ask for a switch? I bet Sam would agree.”

“And have poor Wilson suffer that snob? I might joke about hating the guy, Stevie, but I’d have to really despise him to force Stark on his ass. Why did he switch schools anyways?”

“No idea. Why don't you ask him that later tonight?” Steve yelped when Bucky shoved him, the sound dissolving in laughter as Bucky frowned. 

“I really hate this, Steve.”

Steve pulled him into the small, homey coffee shop, distracting him for the rest of their evening from his shitty headspace. 

~

“What is all this?” Bucky all but shouted, barely squeezing through the small opening that the door allowed, stopped by huge suitcases scattered on the floor of his new dorm. 

“Uh. Sorry. I was just about to move them,” a small voice came from inside the room before Tony emerged, wearing sweats and a Danvers hoodie. Bucky rolled his eyes, annoyed already as he pushed past the clustered floor and threw himself on the bed. 

“It’s a hard life when your butler can’t unpack for you, huh?” 

Tony only repeated his apology, pulling the two larger suitcases out of the room, leaving two smaller ones behind at the end of his bed. 

Who the hell packs four suitcases of clothes to school? Bucky rolled his eyes again when the door fell shut, texting Steve and Sam about the first encounter. 

~

Steve invited Bruce and Clint over to their table, and Bucky was relieved that he didn't find them annoying despite the fact that they were also rich. 

Guess money doesn't excuse shitty attitudes. 

“You’re sharing with Stark?” Clint asked, incredulous. 

“Poor bastard,” Sam added, biting into his hamburger. “Where is he, anyways?” he added, earning himself a glare from Steve for talking with his mouth full. 

“Oh, he wouldn't break bread in the same room as us peasants, you know,” Bucky said, and everyone laughed. He was glad he didn't have to see Tony outside the dorm either, except for Physics and Maths which they unfortunately shared, according to his schedule, but Bruce was in Physics with him as well and it felt better to have someone to talk to as they walked to the class after lunch. 

Bruce was nice, and a little shy, and after knowing him for only twenty minutes Bucky was certain he’d do anything to make sure the guy was always safe and happy if Bucky could help it. They were just on the topic of their annoying history teacher when Bucky spotted Tony at the back of the classroom, staring at his desk. 

He refused to allow his mood to plummet, instead picking a seat as far away as possible from him and gesturing for Bruce to sit behind him. 

“Mr. Banner, please take the seat at the back of the class,” Miss Claire said when she looked up, gesturing to the empty seat next to Tony. 

“Why?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself, but it didn't seem fair for her to force poor Bruce into sitting next to Stark, of all people. 

“I was informed they have similar grades in my field of teaching, meaning that I can finally seat Mr. Banner next to someone who won't cheat off of him,” she said sternly, and Bucky swallowed his protests, pulling his textbook out. He gave Bruce an apologetic shrug and let his gaze follow the boy as he plopped on the seat next to Stark, giving Bucky a thumbs-up when he returned the gaze. 

The class began, and he had to turn his attention to the board if he didn't want to do the extra ten problems as a repercussion for not being attentive during Miss Carol’s lecture. He couldn't bring himself to hold it against her, cause she was one of the few teachers he really liked, even though she basically sentenced Bruce to death three minutes ago. 

Poor Bruce, he didn't deserve this. 

~

“Hi, I’m Bruce,” the boy next to him said, and it took him half a minute of awkward silence to realize Bruce was talking to him. 

“Hi, sorry, I’m- yeah, you probably know who I am,” Tony said, wincing at the thought of James telling the kid about him. 

_He’d find out for himself soon anyways._

“Yeah, I did, hear a lot about you,” the kid- Bruce, blushed, looking away. 

_That’s exactly why I was surprised you started talking to me._

“All the good things, I assume,” Tony tried for a joking tone, but it fell flat and made him wince again. 

“Mr. Stark? I don't know about your last school, but here the students don't talk while I’m giving a lecture,” and all eyes were now on him, judging, peering through his nonchalant mask, but he was taught early on not to show weakness to the crowd. 

“I’ll try to remember that, Miss,” he smirked, not minding the eyerolls and groans he got in response from his new classmates. 

Bruce was looking at him weirdly, and Tony would mistake it for a judgemental gaze hadn’t he noticed as well just how harshly his fingers were digging into his palm. 

“Sorry,” he whispered for no good reason, clicking his pen to decidedly ignore the calculating gaze still burning into the side of his face. 

~

He was good at ignoring whispers by now, nothing anyone ever said could get worse than the things his father spewed at him on the daily for sixteen years now. 

Bruce was nice to him for no reason and Tony’s bet was that it was either a lost wager or an attempt to get his money, but what was new about either though? 

Bucky, sharing a room with him, that was something he hadn't expected, bringing back all those months of confusion and self-loathing he spent questioning why Bucky suddenly hated him, realizing finally one day that Howard was right all those times when he said that Tony’s core was repulsive and unwanted and how nobody who got to know him would want to deal with him, ever, for longer than necessary. 

He learned about what happened to Bucky’s dad the day it happened, and drew about five million dollars off of Howard’s account and sent them to Winifred’s, knowing that if his dad had sent them he’d get media attention over the “hush money” and that’s not something Howard would let him live down. 

He still found out about the missing money and after Tony refused to let him know what he spent it on (he was good at removing his tracks, a skill useful for kids afraid to move around their own home) and it ended up being the only time Howard beat him up. 

The belt marks were still a fainter white on his skin since the time they healed and finally allowed Tony to sleep on his back again, two weeks after inflicted. 

That was the first time he saw, rather than heard, his mom cry. 

He realized at ten years old that his father really did hate him, and in turn Tony hated himself as well, cause who else could ever know him better than his own parents and, if Howard deemed him unworthy, what difference could anyone else's opinion make? 

Bucky’s last words to him were his mantra  
a confirmation of Howard’s words and the only addition to the vicious cycle of his self-deprecating thoughts needed to make sure the loop remained endless. 

He thought he’d never see Bucky again, after he moved. 

He almost threw up when he read the name of his new roommate. 

He left Dunham High over a discourse, a misunderstanding that he didn't want to push because Howard would hate him even more if that even were possible at this point. 

Mrs. Jackson wanted to take him home. Tony almost crashed down when the door opened and his counselor saw everything, begging Tony to press charges or do anything to give him proof of his sense of self-worth, but Tony stared at the floor and shook his head all the same. 

He’s certain he gave Adrian at least three more layers of white to his hair when he said he wasn't worth the time and hassle. 

So he transferred instead and all he carried with him from his last school were phone numbers he’d never use and a recurring nightmare of long red fingernails reaching out to choke him forever. 

Oh, and anxiety. 

He hauled four suitcases of which two large ones were lab equipment as the Danvers’ principle seemed enthusiastic about a genius student with a loud last name transferring there. 

It did bring in a couple investors and a lot more parents willing to pay the incredibly inflated fee to have their kids at the same school that the Stark’s own and only prodigy attended. 

Bucky was angry, and hated him still, Tony knew that the moment he caught that icy gaze that Bucky reserved once for a neighborhood pedophile they reported to the police back in New York, when everything was better, and fake. Imaginary. His happiest moments were nothing but a farce, which was pathetic and not at all unfair on him. 

He had everything else, the lack of happiness and a place to call home wasn't something he was allowed to admit. 

Bucky was, fair, to Tony, the only one blatantly saying to his face what he thought of him, and it was a favor Tony knew he didn't deserve. It was a welcome break from Howard’s voice in his head that was now replaced with Bucky’s constant jabs and-

Tony wished he could tell him that it really was a favor and that if Bucky really wanted to hurt him he could just say nothing instead. 

“Can you turn up the heating a little?” Tony asked, that one time he’d forgotten who he was when he wandered off while coding an autopilot drone. 

“Why?” 

Tony blinked, realization hitting him as he quickly averted his gaze from Bucky, rapidly typing in hopes that his roommate would leave it alone. 

“It’s cold, huh? Not your simulated optimal beauty sleep temperature? Do you want me to fold your clothes and fetch your caviar as well, Sir? Or maybe I could test out some car you build and die in the process? Anything for you, _Tony,_ ” he spat his name like a foul-tasting poisoned pill, nose scrunching in disgust, and Tony realized he couldn't breathe, here, with pain surging in his chest, renewed. He scrambled off the bed and forgot to take his room key or his jacket with him, all but running out of the room. Tears clouded his vision but his memory was more than enough of a replacement for real-time visuals of the spacious hallway, _was_ , because he bumped into someone at the door and pushed out a breathless “I’m sorry” before bolting outside.

He left his wallet in the dorm room, too. 

Once he caught his breath it was already pitch black out, and knowing that Bucky was probably asleep his only option was to spend the night elsewhere, and it was freezing cold now in only his tshirt and sweatpants combo. 

He really didn’t have friends, he realized, a bitter smile cutting through his tear-stained cheeks as he remembered how hurt Rhodey looked when Tony refused to give him an explanation as to why he needed to switch schools. He didn't even have it in him to say goodbye to Pepper, therefore cutting ties with the only two friends he managed to make after Bucky shut him out. 

It was better, like this, less painful for everyone else, and Tony was taught to live with his pain. 

He spent the night on the outside bench, knowing that if anyone saw him in the lobby at this time it would either get him in trouble or they’d force him to wake up his roommate, and neither of those were options, really. The little sprout of self-pity that dared to challenge his mindset he squashed by repeating to himself what a little girl in fifth grade told him before Bucky chased her off: “Daddy says that a lot of people who sleep on the street could use the space you don’t fill in your large house,” and Tony knew she was right. So he spent the night out and waited until 6am when Bucky would have already set off on his morning jog to go back to his room and shower. 

He couldn't get the cold out of his fingers no matter how much he rubbed his hands together, and Bruce was staring at him again,making him loathe the fact that they shared that many classes. 

This is exactly what Rhodey did at first. 

~

“Where were you last night anyways?” Bucky asked, and provided the answer before Tony could even begin to panic over a viable lie. 

“Probably in someone's bed, I guess. That was fast,” he commented, before going back to his assignment in the form of papers and open books scattered on his bed. 

Tony let out a shaky breath and finished his math homework, pulling his headphones out. 

“James, I’m sorry.”

Bucky looked at him and grinned, chilling his body down to the core. 

“And I’m an orphan, what else is new?” 

Tony cursed inwardly, mumbling another apology before leaving to the workshop this time, where a spare key waited on him. 

He was almost late to his first class - Physics - the day after, barely registering the fact that he hadn't slept in two days when he barged into the classroom and went to his assigned seat, feeling eyes on him the entire time. 

“You look horrible,” Bruce told him, sympathy audible in his voice and it made him want to claw at his skin, undeserving of it. 

“I’m good,” Tony breathed, smiling a little and realizing his mistake when Bruce grabbed his hand and pried it open, revealing the little bits of oil that Tony didn't manage to wash off. 

“I could always get the principal to revoke your workshop privileges,” Bruce said in a serious voice, letting Tony’s hand go. 

Privileges. He was right, Tony was the last person that needed extra privileges on top of ones he already had. Didn’t matter that Tony only felt remotely relaxed surrounded by the familiar hum of hydraulics and servers working in unison. What did he do to deserve it? 

“Oh. Yeah, you probably should. I’m the last person deserving of that,” he said, eyes drawn back to his books. 

“Oh, God, you’re not joking,” Bruce said after Tony didn't join in on his little laugh. He sounded mortified at best, and it was unreasonable, really, as much as it was confusing. 

Tony refused to look at Bruce, guessing that his face was a carbon copy of Rhodey’s when he first realized what Tony was really like. 

~

He woke up to loud banging at the door, rushing to open it despite the pit in his stomach forming at the familiar sound. 

“Why the fuck did you lock me out? I've been knocking for fifteen minutes, Stark! You did it to be petty? Huh?”

Tony managed an apology or five before his legs gave out and had him fall to the floor, heaving for air that never made it to his lungs. 

His vision was black by the time he was picked up and sat on his bed, a deep voice ordering him to breathe properly so he somehow forced himself to oblige. 

“I didn't know you had anxiety,” Bucky said when Tony could see again. 

“Doesn't change anything,” Tony said, quickly adding another apology for wasting Bucky’s time before collapsing onto his bed again, exhaustion overflowing him. 

He hoped he imagined the worried look on Bucky’s face he saw before falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk vol 2

Bucky was waiting for Tony to wake up, or at least that’s what he intended before falling asleep himself and waking up to an empty room hours later. 

He wanted to ask Tony about his triggers, or when the panic attacks started happening because he didn't want to cause more of them, but he was still hung up on his anger that he never really got to deal with or talk about, not when mom still cried in the evenings while clutching dad’s ring, not when Steve never even met his dad and he didn't trust anyone else to react the expected way, if he opened up. 

And deep down he knew that Tony had nothing to do with it, but he also had no repercussions from it and Bucky hated the fact that Tony got to live on in his safe bubble in the form of a massive mansion and both parents being alive and rich and focused on Tony alone. 

So, why was Tony acting so weird? Bucky imagined that his pretend-shy persona would go away by now, leaving what he remembered Tony being like - a no-bullshit witty kid with confidence backed up by more intellect that he’d ever need, and a household name he had to fall back on. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Tony was your roommate? God and his mysterious ways! Say hi to your friend for me, will you?” his mom chirped over the phone that he clenched his fingers around. 

“Why would I? And I’ve no friend named Stark,” Bucky said, suddenly aware of how angry he sounded lately. 

“Well, his mother is my friend, for sure, and so is that sweet boy,” and Bucky could picture her disapproving face as if he was back home with her. He was glad that she couldn't see the annoyance on his face but she would definitely hear a trace of it in his voice, because _what the hell, Ma?_

“He is not a sweet boy, he is a Stark. Selfish, arrogant, filthy rich with blood on his hands-”

“That is enough from you, James Buchanan Barnes. That selfish, arrogant Stark is named Howard, and I thought I’d never have to tell you this, but after the accident, it was Tony who sent me apologies and enough money to buy us the new house and never have to work again. I don't know why you don't like him, and we can talk about it if you want, but you will not insult that lovely, kind boy again. Okay?”

Bucky was sure she knew that he’d be speechless after the revelation she dropped on him, and after he hung up he kept staring at the ceiling, unmoving. 

Tony must’ve done it for some other reason. But what was it, then? He never said anything about it, never used it as a leverage against Bucky, a way to keep him under his thumb. Not yet, at least. 

Or was it an act of rebellion against his dad? A brat begging for attention despite probably getting more than enough of it anyways? 

What good could a ten year old kid have in mind, what noble motive behind helping the woman after his father took her husband from her?

But what malicious intent, for that matter, could a ten year old possibly come up with? Though, Bucky remembered how far ahead of them all Tony was, the only reason he refused to skip a year or three being his friend, Bucky. 

It didn't make sense, none of it, and suddenly Bucky was too tired to think about it further, but still fell asleep with one question lingering in the moonlight that seeped through the open window. 

Why, exactly, did he hate Tony Stark? 

~

He was barely on time for History when everyone turned to stare at him as he walked in, a mess of shards of stained glass scattered on the floor in front of him. 

“Just the guy we need,” someone said, and he looked up. 

“We were just saying how you should say you broke it,” a sand-haired jock said in a challenging voice, making him stop in his tracks. 

“Yeah, the principal loves you, and you’ve got the money to cover it. Clint doesn't,” someone else added, and Tony knew that despite the bile rising in his throat he’d say yes and shut them up. 

Or he would’ve, if Steve, Bucky’s new best friend, hadn’t piped in. 

“Yeah, right. Stark’s not the guy to lay down on the wire if he ain't getting nothing out of it,” and the classroom erupted in murmurs that stopped the moment Mr. Jackson walked in to a sight of his beloved collector's vitraj on the tiled floor in a thousand colorful pieces. 

“Who is responsible for this?” he asked, voice wavering at the last word. 

“I did it, Mr. Jackson.”

Everyone’s eyes were now on Tony who was still standing near the door, clenching his backpack straps to hide how shaky his hands were now. 

“Oh, why am I not surprised? Good God, Nick will love to hear about this. And so will your father, won’t he? We’ll see just how much money he’s willing to pay to grant you longer stay here. Go to your seat,” the teacher said in an overly sweet voice, calling in the janitor to clean up the once valuable gift to Danvers High from the Embassy of France. 

“You shouldn't have done that, you know,” the actual offender whispered, and Tony waved him off. Funny how he brought it up only when all was done. 

It took him three times of counting prime numbers down from a thousand to even out his breathing. 

Clint didn't thank him, of course, and he’d be petty over it if he wasn't smart enough to know that he owed the world all the help he could give it. It was his duty to be as useful as possible, one that Howard deemed a failure from the start, based only on the fact it was Tony. And Tony was useless in Howard’s eyes, and also his own, except for times like these when he could spare someone else the stress.  
Tony would be fine, or not, but it didn't matter all that much - no one cared whether Tony would be okay. Clint had people who cared about him, who would be hurting for him if he’d gotten into trouble. 

This way, only Tony would deal with pain. 

~

“A month, Tony. You lasted a month before showing them just how big of a nuisance you are to the world I helped bring you into, and regretted it more than once. You couldn't have lasted more before embarrassing me and the family with your behavior? Worthless, Tony, you’re worthless and you always will be. I paid for the glass you broke, mostly because I don't want you around, just so you know. But you will pay me back when you get home this weekend.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” 

Tony waited for the click of a line ended before burying his face into the soft pillows on his bed. 

The last time he paid Howard back he was left with scars from being whipped by his leather belt that showed even today. 

Tony almost regretted sacrificing himself for Clint’s sake, but then again, he’d probably deserve Howard's punishment for some other reason soon, and it wasn't like Tony deserved sympathy. 

It was better this way. 

~

“I heard what you did in History,” Bucky said, his eyes still focusing on his math homework. 

Tony let out a noncommittal hum, scrolling through his presentation. 

“To buy yourself a friend or two, or to manipulate everyone into liking you? Same way you tried with paying my mom, right?” Bucky asked in a different tone and only added to the lump in Tony’s throat left from his talk with Howard from earlier in the day. 

_So Bucky really thought that low of him?_

Tony tried to reason with himself for a moment but it was pointless, because everywhere Tony went so did his repulsive, useless part of him that occupied most of his mind and body, tainting him and everything he touches.

Everyone hated him, himself most of all. 

~

He usually spent the lunch break in the library, helping the old professor working there to sort the books quicker. 

This time, Bruce tagged along instead of joining Bucky and his other friends for lunch in the cafeteria, and Tony didn't have it in him to be wary of the confusing arrangement. 

“Thank you, for doing that for Clint. Fury would've expelled him for sure if you didn't do that. So, yeah. Thanks for helping my friend.” he ended, beaming at Tony as he kept stacking books on the nearest worktable. 

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged it off and sent it away with a tight lipped smile and empty eyes. If nothing, Tony should be the one thanking Clint for giving him an excuse to exist. 

“Are you okay, Tony?” Bruce all but whispered now, concern etched in his features as he reached out to touch him, and Tony flinched involuntarily. 

“Sorry. Yeah, I am. All good.”

Bruce refrained from pushing it further, instead just stayed with him and walked him to Physics, where Bucky rolled his eyes as soon as he saw the two walking in. 

“How much did he pay you to tolerate him, Brucie?” 

Everyone laughed, even Clint (before Bruce stared him down.) 

(Which was unnecessary, because Tony had expected that anyways.) 

He could barely swallow any of his water from how big the lump in his throat felt now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please stop w the orders lol. i know what i want from this fic. the tags are true, youll get a happy ending cause im winteriron trash and i wouldnt want it any other way lol
> 
> also pls dont hold it against the guys for hating tony. prejudice and misplaced anger is half the 16-yo highschooler experience lmao also, it gets better eventually 
> 
> im on mobile and i was too lazy to edit the thing to say this had more than one chapter, but now im leaving it like this cause i dont know how long ill make this story, not yet.
> 
> and finally, thank you for all the support youve given me, both here and on tumblr, i cannot express enough how much it means to me! ive read every single comment and ask and message and i will do my best to answer them all, as soon as i get some sleep after uploading this. 
> 
> see ya in a few, 
> 
> mer <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont read this chapter if youre sensitive to harsh words or self deprecation and talk of suicide. please. its fuckin Bad. wait for the next chapter instead.
> 
> its world suicide prevention day btw, so. yeah. take care of yourselves.

Tony liked Thursdays. 

Bucky had extra classes on Thursday, and an arrangement with his friends right after school to go to their favorite coffee place, meaning that Tony had the room to himself. 

He’d spent the alone time staring at the ceiling this time, allowing self-pity to clog his thoughts as he realized he never had friends to just chill with, not since Bucky, and they were kids back then anyways. 

Being rich and conventionally attractive was something he never enjoyed ever since he got a grasp on sexual attraction and meaningful friendships. He’s come to a realization that no one liked Tony, just Stark, the billionaire’s son and used that as an excuse to say and do whatever the hell they wanted to him and not get repercussions because of it. 

Meaning that anti-bullying campaigns that were actually effective in his old highschool didn’t include Stark, because he had everything already served on a silver platter and a personal driver to haul him home for breaks, a few insults wouldn't really hurt him that much. Or casual groping, for that matter, cause he was a boy, and boys liked all the sex they could get. 

He never had to explain to Rhodey that the personal driver was just Howard’s way of making sure Tony would never be able to ruin his father’s reputation further by going out and doing “demeaning, stupid childish things” so Tony got used to never being able to hang out with the only two friends he made in highschool. Rhodey just treated him like a regular person. So did Virginia. It was nice, but Tony didn't fully trust it. He was bought plenty of toys he’d grown to love only for Howard to destroy them and scream how he was concerningly stupid for a six-year-old. 

Thinking of Howard made him remember the fact that the day after he’d have to face his dad and let him go through with whatever punishment he had in store for him. Maybe there won't be any hitting this time, the company was doing better than ever lately, and Mom didn't warn him of anything. 

The company was also the reason why he never contemplated suicide. Too many people depended on the Stark Inc for years, and Tony learned that the board of directors was even more unreasonable, even worse than Howard, and Tony knew he could change a lot of people’s lives if he earned to be the heir of Howard’s company. Though he was certain his dad would rather off himself than let the company into the hands of someone outside the only family he deemed pure. 

He went through these same thoughts each time something started the cycle, and end up beating himself over feeling pity for himself, when he was clearly better off than most people out there. Each time Tony would do this, he just nailed Howard’s point further, of how ungrateful and useless Tony actually was.

What other reason could be behind him crying into his pillow while his ex childhood friend spent the day out with people who cared about him?

Being Tony’s friend was a burden no one was willing to carry, and Tony could never hate people for avoiding him, because he’d avoid himself too if only he could. 

He did avoid mirrors, and confrontations about his deteriorating mental health, and Bruce seemed to be on the verge of questioning it. He could avoid Bruce too, just for a couple of days. No one cared enough to not give up that quickly, which was good. Tony didn't deserve people who cared about him. 

Maria, his mom, didn't count, mainly because she was incapable of hating anyone. The woman who could see good in Howard Stark was a woman whose love you couldn't take as a sign of your own worth, only hers. She was a saint as far as Tony was concerned, so he spared her the details about his relationship with dad, cause he didn't want to force her to pick a side. 

He didn't want to break what was left of his strength by watching even her choose Howard over him. 

Pain was an old friend, the only one who didn't leave him, a familiar sensation in his chest that left him breathless and tearing up, a sharp pang in his heart or nail marks on his palms - he was used to it, and resilient on never making anyone learn what made Tony feel those things. 

He hated that Bucky learned about his anxiety attacks, hated how Bucky went easy on him since, because he didn't deserve a break, he would start letting himself believe that he was worthwhile and have it all crashing down before his eyes and cutting him up even more. 

Tony avoided Bucky’s questions about what triggered his panic attacks (loud noises, banging, yelling, belt buckles clinking) and Bucky altogether, planning the time he spent in their room so that they never see each other for long. 

That was the reason behind Tony’s sloppy mistake of not putting on his shirt immediately after he took a shower. 

By the time he realized Bucky was in the room, he already knew it was too late to get himself out of this. 

“Those aren’t- what, the fuck, Tony,” made him freeze over, unresponsive to fingertips now grazing his scarred back. 

Bucky realized what the scars were. 

He probably knew who stood behind them. 

He’d realize that even Tony’s own father, the man who knew him best, hated him enough to do this. 

Maybe this would convince Bucky to stay away from him, for good. 

Tony didn't intend on turning around any time soon, though he could feel his bed dipping where his legs were. He didn't want to turn around and see disgust in Bucky's eyes that matched Howard’s. He didn't hate himself enough for that. 

“What the fuck, Tony. What the fuck is that. Tell me it’s not what I fucking think it is.”

“Sorry,” he offered, hating how his voice shook for no good fucking reason. 

~

Bucky felt the bile rise in his throat, bolting to the bathroom as fast as he could and-

_Fuck. Fuck, Tony. What the fuck._

He threw up the coffee he just had, clutching the toilet seat as the vile taste sat on his tongue now, and he was sure it wasn't from the coffee. 

He rinsed his mouth and stared at his red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, bracing himself for going back to Tony’s bed, for seeing the fucking _whip marks on his back, Jesus fucking Christ, fuck, he’s sixteen and-_

“Shit,” he cursed when he saw an empty bed and realized that Tony fucking apologized to him, _what the fuck is wrong with you, Bucky,_ and started pacing to ground himself a little. 

Pale stripes of raised skin, a skewed criss-cross of Tony’s fucking flesh, fuck, and Bucky’d seen enough christian movies to know on sight what they were, but who could- 

Who did that to him? What the fuck was Tony’s life? And how come Bucky didn’t hear him leave? 

Tony’s phone was on his nightstand, a sleek black iPhone, the newest model, of course - Bucky reached for it without much thought and saw an unopened message on the lockscreen, that shattered the floor beneath him. 

He dropped down to his bed, clutching the phone with an intention to just crumple the damn thing like a sheet of paper, and to do the same to the guy who killed his fucking father and- 

_**Dad:** you know what will happen if you try and run this time._

Bucky tossed the phone back at the bed that Tony never really slept in, not that Bucky knew of, and stared at the wet spot on the white pillow where Tony’s face was buried when Bucky barged in. 

_Fuck._

He had to find Tony. 

_~_

Locking himself in the empty workshop wasn’t as easy with shaky hands and tears blocking his vision. 

Bucky was disgusted by him. 

Well, more than before, that is, and all Tony could think about is Bucky telling his friends about it and laughing afterwards, at the rich boy whom even his own parents despised. Bruce probably wouldn't laugh, but Tony wouldn't be surprised if the guy started avoiding Tony and his fucked up double life. 

He hated seeing himself through others’ eyes, hated hearing Bucky throw up because of looking at him, hated being Tony, the repulsive, disgusting Tony that no one could stand for longer than a few days. 

A waste of space and oxygen and his dad’s resources, of everyone’s time, a disappointment in making. 

He’d face Howard tomorrow and ask for a punishment himself, maybe that will shut his thoughts up, knowing that he paid for his mistakes, for making Bucky see a part of his fucked up life by being a fuck up and forgetting to put on his damn shirt. 

God, he really was everything Howard forced him to learn. 

_Stupid._

_Vile._

_Unlovable._

He was pulling at his hair to shut himself up. 

_Maybe he should go and shut himself down instead._

It took an eternity for him to finally realize that the constant banging came from the door he locked, and not his own head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill try to update soon, thanks 4 all the love dudes <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha im Alive and here enjoy the shortest chapter in history of humankind

So Bucky fucked up, and knew it was an understatement by the time he reached the west wing and the double glass door of the workshop to find out they were locked. 

He was just about to turn and rack his mind for other places Stark could’ve potentially ran off to when he heard a faint sob sound from the inside. 

He was sure he’d break the door at this rate, banging his fist against it and calling for Stark to open it until he did, eyes red and breathing quickening as he registered it was Bucky who demanded to see him. 

And boy did the sight make him feel like shit. 

This, wasn’t nearly what he was certain Tony Stark would be - emotionless corporate shark in making, worse than his father cause he grew up in it, or a snobby brat who avoided everyone cause they were below him when held to any standard that Bucky’s version of Tony cared for. 

This, was a kid, _a fucking kid_ and he was crying and looked like he’d tell Bucky to fuck off and leave him alone but knew that he’d be called arrogant or rude for it. 

So Bucky did what his instincts usually told him to do when any of his other friends was crying, what he always did when Tony would cry back then - he wrapped his arms around the boy and tightened the grip only when Tony didn't move to pull away. 

He felt Tony shaking in his arms, tears wetting his shirt for God knows how long they stood there, and it was heartbreaking only when Bucky realized that Tony hadn’t made a single sound because he was probably scared to - God fucking dammit, how stupid was Bucky to think that Howard fucking Stark could’ve been decent at anything except for leading a company and being a sociopath. 

Why he transferred his anger to Tony as well was, a mystery, and an easy way out. It was easy to justify hating Tony and the guy never defended himself - he read that as a sign of guilt up until seeing those scars and connecting the obvious dots which made him sick to his stomach as he realized he just worsened the abuse Tony went through, or was still going through, fuck, fucking hell, why didn’t Tony say anything?

But then he caught himself trying to blame Tony again and spare himself the self-reflection he desperately needed ever since Dad died but was never ready to let go of his anger. 

Tony stopped shaking, and Bucky slowly unlinked his arms, gripping Tony’s forearms instead to make sure he doesn't run off again.  
His heart broke all over again when Tony whispered an apology for “ruining his shirt” and avoided his eyes. Fuck. 

“Tony,” _and fuck did it feel right to say his name again, and Bucky only now realized just how much he missed his Tony_ , “can we go back to our room and talk? Please?” 

He knew it was a bit unfair on him but knowing that Tony would probably read his disgust as directed to him and not the fucking bastard of his father, it was better to draw the lines before Tony has the time to step out of them and doubt himself forever. 

Tony nodded, following suit, and Bucky wondered how much of the agreement was due to being afraid of repercussions had he said no. 

It was sickening, more and more, and Bucky hated the fact that all he did was make it worse on the kid that he was friends with. But that’s just what they were still - kids, and it fucking sucked that Tony had to have the worst end of it. 

They sat down on Bucky’s bed, and it was long overdue for Bucky to explain himself and treat Tony like a regular kid and not this version of him that he somehow saw in Tony’s PR way of handling Bucky’s grief back then. He couldn't apologize because Howard would find out and do God knows what to him for putting his company’s rep in danger, not because he thought that Bucky’s dad was just another victim to the Stark vision. 

So, Bucky talked, and Tony listened all the while picking at the hem of his shirt, as if it was the most important thing he could be doing now. 

Bucky talked, said his reasons, not because he thought they’d clear him or sound like excuses, but because Tony deserved to know, deserved to have contra arguments for whenever he doubts himself because of Bucky’s own issues. 

He was quiet after Bucky was done, looking too vulnerable with tear streaks dried on his cheeks and hunched shoulders, so Bucky offered a habit of theirs from the time when Bucky wasn't the cause of his tears, rather a solution - he asked if Tony would like to be cuddled to sleep and it sounded stupid to say it out loud now that they weren’t little kids, but Tony smiled a little for the first time since their reunion and embarrassment gave way to nostalgia as they slipped underneath the covers, Bucky guiding Tony’s head to his chest and the two of them slotting back in place, together, like it had always supposed to have been.

Bucky knew he didn't deserve the comfort, but Tony did, and if this helps to solidify Bucky’s regret for having his head up his ass for the past six years then so be it. He was lulled to sleep with Tony’s short breaths and the warmth on top of his chest that he missed more than he ever let himself admit. 

~

He was. On Bucky’s chest. An ending he hadn’t expected for today, or ever, really. 

Bucky came looking for him, after seeing the mess that was Tony’s back, and he wasn't disgusted - didn't look disgusted anymore, just, sad, for some reason. 

And he hugged Tony. 

Not for a few seconds, just. Hugged him, for real. And it’s been a while and a half since someone hugged Tony and _meant_ it. 

So, Tony might have cried his fucking eyes out into Bucky’s shirt, remembering the day he earned himself those scars and how his life turned to fucking hell afterwards. 

He might have forgotten that he didn't deserve comforting, that he shouldn't have cried in the first place, cause Stark men were made of iron and he wasn’t ever supposed to cry, let alone allow anyone to see it, but Bucky didn't seem to mind. 

At all, really. 

He just held him and let him fall apart, let him feel like it was okay to do that still, even though they weren't kids anymore and last time Tony cried in Bucky's arms was over a teddy bear that Howard threw out. 

Bucky wanted to talk, after, and it was probably a dream, he was sure of it now, so Tony agreed to follow him back to their room, to listen to Bucky explain to him why he hated Tony. 

As if he needed reasons. Howard made him realize that it was just who Tony was, to the core - unlovable. Unwanted. 

But Bucky had his reasons and Tony listened to them, and found them unexpected yet plausible, but this wasn't Bucky talking, it was just a dream and his brain’s way of comforting him into believing that he was worth the explanation, or reasoning. 

So. He listened, and expected to wake up soon, but nothing happened, not even when Bucky stopped talking. 

And they _were_ good reasons, the first ones he’d thought of that didn't include Tony being overall a worthless person, the first ones that didn't blame Tony, but Bucky instead, and he wondered why was his brain thinking in a way he’d never allow himself. 

Bucky had every right to hate Tony, because he was Tony. 

But this, dream version of Bucky, apologized, many times, over and over and sounded like he meant it, and it was just. It felt good, even though it wasn't real or deserved, but Tony allowed himself this, with guilty conscience, and kept quiet not to break the illusion, just for a little while more. 

And then, Bucky asked him if he wanted to cuddle, just like back then when he’d be scared of thunder or when Tony would get in trouble and need some calming down before facing his father. 

So, this was a dream, without a doubt, and Tony felt a pang of sadness behind his ribs, at what he’d never have again, except for here, where it wasn't real. He made up this, conjured a picture he wished he was part of still, but couldn't be. He was Tony, after all. 

He smiled a little, broken and, melancholic, but dream Bucky didn't mind at all, pulling the covers over them and placing Tony’s head on top of him, arms secured around his back. 

It felt nice, laying like this again, heat surging through his veins in the arms of the only person besides his mother that cared about him at all. 

Or, used to, because this was a dream, and the real Bucky hated him now, as he should. 

So. Yeah. He was cuddling “Bucky”, just like the old times, and he would probably wake up soon and find out he’d fallen asleep on the workshop floor again. But for now, he pressed his face against the solid warmth beneath it and fell asleep easier than he had in _years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean. sorry.
> 
> also ive had insane headaches lately from lack of sleep and all that insomnia jam so like. sorry for not updating earlier ill try and be a good girl from now on lmfao
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! 2 more chappies and we out
> 
> leave a like or a comment if you want, helps pressure me into writing more dbsnsks
> 
> -mer <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long wait, i know. the usual me being a disappointment with the side of Ive Zero Free Time,, still - enjoy the update!!

Bucky woke up with a weird feeling of urgency, but when he tried to sit up on the bed, a weight in the form of a sleeping Tony held him down and puzzled him for a brief second.

Oh.

Oh, yeah. Fuck.

It felt incredible, having that familiar warmth resting on his chest in the morning, taking him back to hazy childhood memories of spending cold nights in fall cuddled on his old green sofa with his best friend asleep on him. It was too much nostalgia for a weekend morning and frankly, an undeserved comfort given what he had done to the boy that for some reason managed to fall asleep in Bucky’s arms but he didn’t dare to move any more than he already has as to not wake Tony up, recalling the dark purple around his glossy eyes and exhaustion.

Not that it wasn’t in large part Bucky’s fault which was, a horrible feeling in his stomach that he deserved.

They’d be late to class if he doesn’t move anytime soon so he gives Tony a light shake and watches as his eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep. His nose scrunches up adorably in confusion when he looks to the side and sees his bed empty.

“Good morning, Tony,” Bucky says softly, helpless against the smile that forms when seeing Tony like this, a cuddly kitten, not a scared one, and it hurts as all hell knowing that he made Tony feel like he had to seek cover.

“I didn’t dream all of last night?” he finally lets out in a perplexed voice, and hurries to jump out of Bucky’s bed which he allows, sighing.

“No, Tony, you didn’t. I did apologize, and I probably will a billion times more if-”

“Can we do this later? Sorry, it’s just- I can’t be late for class, you know, it’s better if I’m not, uh, late.”

Bucky bites back the string of curse words in anger at himself, at Howard, at all of them for letting it go this far.

He nods and Tony offers a shaky smile, one that looked more pained than anything it was supposed to convey, but he doesn’t comment on it and gets dressed for school instead.

When he exits the bathroom Tony is still sitting on his own bed, hugging himself. Bucky suddenly feels an aching need to just pull him in a hug and keep him tucked in his arms for a week, but seeing how Tony reacted to him when he came to his senses kept him on a safe distance from the smaller boy.

“You really saw the, uh. My back?”  
Bucky bites his lip, trying to figure out whether he should lie to Tony and spare him the embarrassment, but it feels wrong, superficial even, and he owes Tony much more than basic human decency so he nods, and watches Tony’s face shift into a scared, then hurting expression. Then he gets up and walks out the door, and Bucky can’t help but feel like shit about all of it throughout the day.

He gives his friends a brief update on his feelings towards Tony and his unwarranted dick-tier behaviour, and all of them seem to feel uneasy with themselves, well - except for Clint who grumbles into his juice box and Bruce, who beams at Bucky for the first time in weeks. Bucky doesn’t share the details, or the overall trigger of his epiphany, but it doesn’t really matter that much to any of them. Nat only comments how they _were being bullies, you know, words can fucking hurt too,_ and they all hum their agreements, even Clint does (but it’s probably more due to the fact that it was Nat who said it) and Bucky breathes just a little easier after that.

Sam looks distant, and halfway through lunch asks Steve to walk to the library with him, both leaving the table without another word.

Bucky doesn’t think much of it, and notes to himself that he needs to talk to Bruce and see what he knows about all of it, or if Tony trusts him enough to tell him what he’s feeling right now.

Bucky felt like he was hiding in a room all this time with blinds drawn closed and someone just flicked on the lights and made him see how much he was missing in his making of his view of the world. The old wound of losing Dad was open and aching again and he knew better than to try and brush it off or pin the anger he still felt on someone else. It was the wrong thing to do and he wondered how it escaped him all these months he spent throwing jabs Tony’s way as if hurting Tony would relieve him of his own hurt, and it was irrational and shameful of him to do so and keep avoiding self-reflection to spare himself more pain.

He needed to talk things through with Bruce and Mom before he even tries to approach Tony again and does the boy any more damage than he already has.

And it might be selfish and completely undeserved but he wants to have with Tony what he used to years ago, missing him and the days when he wasn’t angry at everything and everyone all the time, missed the certainty of that comforting warmth and weight helping him fall asleep when he needed it most. And if Tony wants the same after Bucky figures out how to get help, for both of them, he knows nothing on the face of the Earth would make him let Tony down again.

~

For the most part, he didn’t want to think about any of it. In one hand it was everything he hoped would transpire, yet in other, he was unsure what to make out of it.

In short - Tony was left alone, in class and everywhere else, which was something he wasn’t expecting to ever happen.  
He didn’t want to hold on to the hope that Bucky really cared enough to be behind the change in attitude towards him from everyone he encountered after lunch break, and as to everything else he wasn’t that happy, not when he knew he had yet to face Howard later that day.

He didn't want to talk to Bucky yet and break the illusion of Bucky for some reason tolerating him, so he told Edwin to pick him up right after his last class finishes. 

It was Physics cause Tony has zero luck in life and even though he was one of the first people to enter and take their seat, Bucky was for some reason already in his seat, and staring at him. 

“Why are you carrying your duffel bag?” 

Tony shrugged, focusing on the pictures on the wall behind Bucky instead of the implication behind his question. 

“Tony, you’re not actually going to-” 

“You think I have an option not to?” he says and immediately regrets the way his voice came out bitter and humorless, cause Bucky looked _wounded_ and Tony couldn't help but feel guilty over it. It wasn’t Bucky’s issue, it wasn't Bucky’s fault. 

He wasn't supposed to be affected by any of this, at least not negatively, and if only Tony wasn't a fucking klutz and put his shirt on on time Bucky wouldn't have started acting like he cared, or being polite. Tony didn't deserve any of it. 

He ignored the hand that wrapped lightly around his wrist to try and stop him, he ignored the feeling of being watched throughout the class, he ignored Bucky calling his name and made a beeline for the black _Bentley_ parked in front of the school, waiting for him. 

~

Panicking like this was a new thing for Bucky entirely, but pacing wasn’t so he tried to keep his breathing in check as he made a dent in the grass of his backyard with his back-and-forth pacing as Steve watched him, concerned.   
“Why exactly are you worried about him, now?” 

Bucky dismissed the question by swatting his hand in Steve’s general direction, coaxing a sigh out of him and a “I’ll help Winifred with dinner”, which left Bucky alone in his thoughts.   
Here’s the thing - he could technically call Tony and check to see if he’s okay, cause he managed to convince Bruce to give him Tony’s number. But then again, he was most likely the last person that Tony would want to hear from, and Bucky wasn’t about to use Tony’s vulnerable state to sate his nostalgia by befriending Tony again - it was unfair and undeserved, and _yet._

Bucky was probably the only person that knew about it and cared about Tony’s well-being. He felt the all-too-familiar anger heating up at the thought of Howard Stark, of him hurting Tony, and he knew he’ll probably go mad with worry if he doesn't check on Tony. 

Steve had had enough of it and dragged him into the house when it got cold out, and Bucky didn't even notice until he was inside and a mug of hot chocolate was given to him by his mother. 

He curled up on the armchair near the fireplace and vaguely registered the action movie that Steve put on, realizing halfway through that he had no idea what the plot was even about. Winifred joined them with microwave popcorn and homemade pie, and Bucky listened in on Steve and her commenting on the movie’s apparent shallow and predictable plot for a bit. They seemed to grow bored of the film and put on The Lord of the Rings instead, Bucky giving them his automated agreement on it. 

And even though he knew it was selfish to think of himself when Tony was the one going through all this, it took only two more hours of maddening inner debate for him to break and excuse himself to go to his room and frantically dial Tony’s number. 

He hung up and Bucky felt a pang in his chest at the dismissal but then Tony texted him and he had to wipe his hands on his jeans to be able to unlock the phone. 

_**tony:** phone calls not allowed in the house lol. what did you need me for?_

_**me:** had to check in on you. sorry. couldnt help myself. you alright?_

He was holding his breath as he waited for the response which took a good minute of him nervously tapping his foot on the rug. 

_**tony:** yeah. hes not here, last min business trip. dw. see you in school_

Bucky breathed out in ease, locking his phone before deflating against the door. Tony was fine, for now, and he wasn't mad at Bucky for asking him such a private question, thankfully. 

Only later would Bucky realize that Tony didn't think he had the right to be mad at him, and his mood deflated again. 

He still had a long way to go. 

~

Tony didn't want to lie, but Bucky left him no choice, and he was glad for Howard’s rule of no phone calls allowed cause he was still crying and his voice would’ve probably given that away. 

Howard was in fact at home and even though he didn't beat him, he still yelled at him for an hour about his irresponsible idiotic behavior and tainting his reputation with his useless existence - the usual, but it still made Tony cry, because he was weak (just another thing Howard was right about). 

His fingers were shaking as he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible in his texts, hoping that Howard doesn't drink on his night out and decides to take it out on Tony again. Not for his sakes, but for Bucky’s cause Tony didn't want the boy to feel bad for Tony and his pathetic state, now that he had to pretend to care. It wasn't something Tony was keen on thinking about, but he had nothing better to do so he went to bed early and woke up to harsh banging on his room door, although this time it wasn’t Bucky who woke him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> next chappie is the grand finale, though i might make the epilogue separate from it, ill see what feels right and let yall know
> 
> comments appreciated cause this bitch is attention-hungry lmao
> 
> hope yall liked it!


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realistically this need s more than six chapters im just too bad at things to know these things in advance! i also make no sense . i had 9hrs of lectures and no sleep last night but man ohman did i wanna finally update this. its been literally so many months. does anyone even remember this exists lmfao

Pins and needles were in place of James’ old thinned-out mattress, thoughts scattered but all there to distract him from reaching out for his phone to check his notifications a billionth time that Friday night in hopes of seeing signs of life from his, roommate? Friend? He wasn’t sure what to think of Tony at the moment in terms of their relationship but what was sure was that James cared a lot about his well-being, especially now as he had no way of knowing if Tony was alright or not, forced to spend the weekend at monster of a dad’s house.

Maybe if Jarvis was still around he’d be able to fall asleep knowing Tony would be taken care of, but the nice old butler died a while back and with him died James’ only remaining interest in that fortress of detachment Tony was unlucky enough to call a home.

James wasn’t the best at patience and reflection and not being rash about everything regarding- but, no, this wasn’t regarding him, was it? Was Tony someone he wanted back in his life? 

Because he didn’t deserve to have him back, all things considered, from a perspective of his single mother who was now hurting twice as much because she _let her kid be consumed by anger so much he forgot to stop and be logical for well over six years_ \- but he was a kid, she concluded, and she _should’ve been more present, more open to discussing George’s death_. Because everything always traced back to that awful injustice, the pain of not seeing his dad smile every evening coming back from work, even as tired as he was after slaving away in Dread and Destiny that was Howard’s haven of mad inventions and unsafe conditions - safety wasn’t worth the money that’d be better used for new good things coming out of Stark Inc into the entranced outside world.

It wasn’t fucking fair, Bucky still held onto that because it was true, but neither was shifting his daggers towards Tony instead cause he knew it would hurt. Which. There it is.

Fucked up, but also true. Howard didn’t, in reality, give a damn about anyone but himself and the part of Tony that held the right to inherit his tech empire, if Bucky was angry at him and showed it, Howard would gain and lose just about as much as he would in any other case, realistically.

The only variable left was Tony, and Tony already believed he had defects like no other kid - of which all envied him except for Bucky cause fuck chauffeurs and snobby black tie parties Tony was a mascot for since the time they were still fascinated by wet sand castles - so Bucky chose the cheapest method of coping with _his father’s fucking death_.

And now he felt like shit.

Let it be clear - he always felt like shit, for years now, but this was something he couldn’t blame on life being unfair on him, something he couldn’t rant about to Steve and forget about in two days, because Bucky was entirely to blame this time ‘round and boy did he fuck up an already fragile person. It was cruel in so many ways he’d feel nauseous about if he dares to dwell on them too much but he didn’t really plan on running from razor-sharp mirror shards in which traces of his being itself stared back at him, justice (or vindication?) burning in blue eyes. Cruel, because Tony learned to deflect all kinds of fucked up things kids threw at him on the daily, the ones whose parents didn’t care much about raising their kids proper, not as much as they talked shit about Howard and his snotty brat of a son (they were like nine? Ten? At the time, which made Bucky flare up in righteous anger before remembering a second later that he’s worse than them).

Cruel, because Tony trusted him, meaning that he probably took everything Bucky spat at him to heart - and Bucky threw some great deal of vicious nonsense at him for no good reason, really - and that, combined with what Bucky walked in on and realized with the force of a freight train hitting him head on, was just about enough to make him vow to himself, in all seriousness, that he’d do a hell of a lot to try and make it up to his old friend.

Who was at home now, with that fucking demon, and Bucky can’t do anything about it because it’s four in the morning and his head kind of hurts and his spit tastes bitter now, for whatever reason.

The scars weren’t what doused him in ice water that might as well be holy - it was the way Tony instinctively took the blame for someone that would probably never dream of returning the favor or even thanking him for it. Because some overwhelmingly familiar frustration urged Bucky to go and explain to him that not all people deserve his blood or sacrifices of less painful sorts. But he couldn’t for a very obvious reason so. Reasons. Asking himself why this, why that for the past thirty or so hours did a number on his already fried brain after quiz week, anyways. He’d apologize, it’s not much but he’ll make sure it means something, anything to Tony. He has to make it mean something or he’ll go insane, if he didn’t already.

Five a.m.

He must ask Steve, notorious bully hater, if he hates Bucky, cause he should, really. But he won’t hate himself - can’t, for one, and also because it wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Tony, if he did or forced himself to. And maybe Tony will survive this and Bucky will take care of everything else, in such a case. A wasteland was between them now, and the walls that he knew how to tear down easily. He did it twice already.

Mom finds him later in the morning sitting on a messy bed, his head in his hands and a phone face side up on the floor between his feet.

///

 

“How many fucking times, Tony. How many times will your poor old pa have to drill common sense into your thick fucking skull.”

He talks as raw only when he's drunk enough to forget about basic principles of dominance assertion - don't show real emotion - which is a lot more than he usually does on nights like these. 

“You're damn lucky Obie dealt away with that scrawny IRS clown and got us a 2.1% overall rise, boy, or else” he smiles then, the flashy Vegas showman within him unhinged due to whiskey, probably, “or else you wouldn't be sleeping on your back for a long while.”

And the way he says it hits Tony like a train, because wasn't it supposed to be blind, hot white rage of an otherwise stoic and rational bastion who objectively hates him? Or did his mind make that diagnosis to let him cling to something other to people for once.

“Your principal says you weren’t disciplined enough,” he drawls out, obviously enjoying that Tony is most likely paling at a real-time pace.

“You miss this, huh? Is that why you broke that whatever you broke, boy?” Howard pointedly looks at his own belt and then back up, staring intently as he would at a particularly annoying aspiring PA.

Tony swallows hard, and his back is suddenly itchy. He’s probably sweating bullets - he’s too numb now to know for sure.

Four in, ten hold, seven out, times a billion.

Bucky knows about those too, now, fuck.

Four in, ten hold, seven out, times forever.

Dad’s having fun, at least.

“He also thinks you need therapy. I barely stopped myself from laughing. Barely” and Tony believes him because therapy in Howard’s eyes is something for unhappy women and retired soldiers and a laughing matter when it comes to all the times Tony’s doctors suggested it to Howard, because he probably did need it but then Howard would hate him even more and Tony isn’t ready to tick off yet another reason of his dad’s misery and disappointment in the world so soon.

Mental health and normal reactions to social situations can wait. 

Howard isn't angry at all now, his sickly grin and lazy scraping of his manicured nails on the expensive designer belt make it crystal clear he’s just toying with Tony, knowing how sick he must look like, but he’s a smart man and Tony was taught to be smart enough to know he deserves it.

Maybe not the beating, but everything else that made the beating a constant possibility given the variables are all in Howard’s favor.

It feels like pulling teeth to lay there and stare back at his father, waiting for something new and gruesome to come out of his mouth that hurts Tony just enough to be a good closing line and a valid enough addition to his haunting bedtime story of lines that include some of Howard’s best think pieces about him being insufferable, worthless, a pain - you name it. So they wait, and Tony wishes he could fall asleep after this but knows better than to hope he would be able to.

And Bucky acting weird about everything won’t help him either, nor will the hope that somehow things will get better, because Tony also knows better than hoping. His hope is just dread, and as edgy as he sounds to himself in his own head: he wasn’t exactly wrong enough times about that to consider revisiting his thesis.

It’s bizarre in a sense not much else about his life is, which is saying something.

Feeling like maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as normal as he’d been praying to convince himself. Fearing that his dad would - and yet, here they are, and Howard leaves, probably sensing he spent too much time stalling and too little time berating. He’ll probably make up for it soon enough.

Tony likes Stane a bit more than he did before, which now, isn’t saying anything. 

Tony hates them all, but he hates himself more so. Yeah.

His phone has around fifteen different types of notifications from Bucky, and one of them is from his student email. They range from genuine worry to rambling to indirect death threats and conspiring and none are even a little bitter or sarcastic, so if he questioned reality before he sure as hell knows now all of it is most likely a dream.

Tony almost lets a fond smile slip before remembering he’s Tony, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw did i mention i cant write hahahshh

**Author's Note:**

> should i write more or,,
> 
> dunno. 
> 
> @ironmanstan if you wanna hmu on tungler.cum
> 
> lov,
> 
> mer :)


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